


Destiny

by aleclightwouldnt



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Constipation, F/M, OC, Original Character Death(s), Past Child Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-10
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-02-16 21:12:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2284635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aleclightwouldnt/pseuds/aleclightwouldnt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christine Ford and her sister Becca are hunters. They meet Sam and Dean Winchester on a case in Michigan, and the four decide to stick together. As the group travels the country hunting monsters, Christine discovers there may be something not exactly natural going on with her, and they all realize that there are greater forces at work than ghosts and vampires.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Suspicions

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first published fic, so feedback would be awesome. I'll try to update as often as I can. Thanks for checking this out!

_"Damnit, Christine!” my father roared._   
_I silently cowered in my place in the corner, clutching my knees to my chest as I waited for the inevitable._   
_“Why can’t you just do something right for once?” he continued._   
_“I-I’m sorry,” seven-year-old me stuttered, choking back tears, “I didn’t m-mean to, I-I-”_   
_“Enough!” he bellowed, raising his hand. I flinched out of habit. “You shouldn’t have touched that gun, Christine. It broke the window. Now people are suspicious of us.   We’re going to have to leave again. Hunters can’t be this careless, Christine. Damnit…!”_   
_His hand whipped down and connected with the left side of my red, tear-stained face. The force of the blow knocked me against the wall, causing a loud thump. My eyes peeled open, sending a jot of throbbing through my head. I saw my three-year-old sister, Becca, cowering behind the couch._   
_“You’re absolutely useless, you brat,” I heard my mother sneer. She must have entered the room while I was hitting the wall. “Honestly, if Rebecca turns out as worthless as you I don’t know what we’re going to do.” At this my father sighed and left the room with his hand on his forehead. My mom glared at me._   
_“Maybe if we didn't have to deal with you all the time we’d actually be happy for once.”_

 ---

          “Christine!”  
          I woke with a start, bolting upright in bed. The image of my mother gradually melted away and was replaced with the musty old motel room my sister and I had checked into earlier that day. Now it was pitch black, and the clock said it was 2:47am.  
          “Christine?”  
          I glanced to my right as I steadied my breathing, seeing Becca looking at me with her trademark concerned look from her own bed.  
          “You okay?” she asked, keeping her look but smiling softly at me.  
          I forced myself to smile back at her. “I’m fine. Just a bad dream.” I finally started to feel my heartbeat slow, approaching its normal pace.  
           “You…” she began quietly, averting her eyes by looking down, “You were apologizing. A lot. And crying. It…It was about mom and dad, wasn’t it?”  
          I knew there was no point in lying to her. We knew each other too well. “Yeah.”  
          “They’re not a part of our lives anymore, Christine,” Becca told me pointedly for about the millionth time, “They can’t hurt us anymore. They can’t hurt you.”  
          “I know,” I sighed.  
          “I don’t care what they told you,” she continued, coming over to sit beside me on my bed, “You’re not worthless.”  
          “We don’t need to have this conversation again, Bec,” I sighed with exasperation.  
          “Apparently we do,” she said sternly, “Chris, you’ve helped so many people. You’re a great hunter, and you’ve saved countless lives. Do you know how many people would be dead right now if you weren’t here? And don’t forget about what you’ve done for me. You were my only support in that hellhole we called home. All those years with mom and dad, you protected me. You always took the beatings for me and never let them lay a finger on me. And best of all, you got me away from them. And you’ve done a hell of a job taking care of me.”  
          “Yeah, yeah…” I mumbled, trying to take her words to heart. I plopped back down on the bed and pulled the blankets back up to my shoulders. “Thanks, Bec. Now go to sleep.”  
          “Fine,” she sighed, getting up and climbing back into her own bed.  
         “Goodnight, Becca,” I called out sincerely.  
         “Goodnight, Chris.”

 

* * *

 

 

          “Check this out, Chris,” Becca called from her laptop in the front of the motel room as I exited the bathroom. I made my way over to her and peered down at the screen. “Three murders in the past week and a half,” my sister informed, “So far all of the victims have been middle-aged women. All of them were found in their homes burned to death… on their stovetops.”  
          “Gross,” I shuddered, seeing the pictures on her laptop, “And their families didn’t hear any screaming or anything?”  
          “Nope,” she replied, “It seems like they all did it willingly…”  
          “So, maybe possession then?” I proposed. Becca nodded. “Any other connections?”  
          “Not that I know of,” she told me.  
          “Lansing, Michigan, huh?” I sighed, “Well, let’s get going.”

 

* * *

 

 

          “Lansing, Michigan, huh?” Dean Winchester sighed as he and his brother, Sam, entered the town in their impala.  
          “Yep,” Sam replied, “There should be a motel around the corner here.

\---

  
          “So, these women have anything in common?” Dean asked Sam after they had settled into their motel room.  
          “Nothing I can tell from the internet,” Sam replied, “Besides their similar ages. We’ll have to interview their families.”  
          “I guess it’s time to suit up, then,” Dean smirked.  
          Once they were properly dressed in their suits and looked like actual FBI agents, they got back into the impala.  
         “I say we head to Janie Woods’ house first. Her husband should be home with their kids,” Sam said as they pulled out of the parking lot, “The address is 34w272 Water Ridge.”  
         “Ok,” Dean replied, “This was the house of the first victim, right?”  
         “Yep,” his brother confirmed, “Her two kids found her… now it’s just them and their dad.”  
         “Poor kids…” Dean muttered.  
         They arrived at their destination fairly quickly. Both of them adjusted their suits as they approached the white door of the Victorian style house. Dean rapped on the door firmly. A middle-aged man with faded brown hair answered the door. The very noticeable dark circles under his eyes gave away his exhaustion.  
         “Can I help you?” he asked, his tiredness showing again through his voice.  
         “Good afternoon, we’re agents Huntley and Johnson,” Dean greeted as the boys held up their fake FBI badges and IDs, “We’d like to ask you a few routine questions about your wife’s ordeal.”  
         “But I already spoke with the FBI this morning,” the man complained, “There were two women here. They already asked me your ‘routine questions’.”  
         The brothers were taken aback. After a few moments, Sam asked, “Oh… What sort of questions were they asking?”  
         The man looked vaguely pissed off. “Just the usual ones. If she had any enemies, relations to the other women… They did ask a few weird ones, though. If she had been acting strange, if the lights had been flickering or anything…”  
         The hunters glanced at each other. They lights? Why would they ask about that? Unless…  
         “So, were there any relations between your wife and the other victims?” Dean asked.  
         “Yeah,” he replied, “What I told your FBI buddies this morning. They were all in the same cooking club.”  
         “I see…” Dean said, “Well, we’re very sorry for troubling you, sir.”  
         “It’s fine,” the man said with a sigh, “Have a nice day.” With that, he closed the door.  
         “Well, he was a ray of sunshine,” Dean said sarcastically as they headed back to the impala.  
         “His wife just died, Dean,” Sam replied with a pointed look, “Cut him some slack. Besides, I think we’ve got more important matters to deal with right now. I think… I think there are other hunters working this case.”

* * *

  
        “I heard there are other FBI agents in town,” I told my sister once we met up again in our motel room.  
        “Yeah?” she asked, looking up at me from her laptop with her concerned look, “Do you think they’re the real deal?”  
        “I don’t know,” I replied, “Actually, some of the locals said they were asking some pretty weird questions… like if any of the victims had been acting strange or if anything weird has been happening in the town.”  
        Becca cocked her head. “You don’t think…?”  
        “I think we’re dealing with other hunters.”

\---

  
          “What are we going to do about our… coworkers?” Becca asked me. We were sitting in a bar later that night, trying to figure out our next move.  
          “I say we should just keep working the case,” I proposed, “Maybe we’ll run into them along the way. If they’re decent hunters, then they should have noticed someone else is on the case by now. Maybe they’ll be looking for us too.”  
          “Sounds like a plan,” she agreed, taking a sip of her beer. She may have only been 20, but that didn’t stop her from drinking. It wasn’t like she was an alcoholic or anything, and she’s one of the most responsible people I know. It was easy to make a simple fake ID when your job requires fake FBI badges.

 

* * *

 

          “So, are we gonna look for these hunter chicks?” Dean asked, gulping down a sip of his beer. They had gone to a local bar to plan out what to do next.  
          “I figure that if we keep on working the case, we may just run into them,” Sam told his brother, “Who knows, they may even be looking for us. They seem to be good hunters, so it’d surprise me if they haven’t noticed that they aren’t the only ones on the case.”  
          “Agreed,” Dean said. He then glanced up at the bar and got a crooked grin on his face. “Speaking of chicks… I’m gonna go have a little fun.”  
          “Go ahead,” Sam laughed, watching his brother approach two girls with dark brown, almost black, hair who were sitting at the bar.

\---

          “Hello ladies,” Dean purred, walking up behind the two girls he had seen from his table. The one on the left, presumably the older one, rolled her eyes.  
          “I suggest you keep walking, hotstuff,” she said with a smirk.  
          “Aw, come on,” he complained, “I was just saying hello.”  
          “Yeah, I’m sure,” the younger one said with an eye roll identical to the other’s. They looked strikingly similar, so Dean assumed they were sisters.  
          “Let me get you some more drinks,” he proposed, sitting in the empty seat beside the older one, waving down the bartender, “Three beers, please.”  
          “So what lovely names match these lovely faces?” Dean continued, flashing a smile at them.  
          The girls seemed to decide to play along. “I’m Christine,” the older one said, “This is my sister, Rebecca.” Just then the bartender handed them their drinks.  
          “Like I said,” Dean flirted, “Lovely names.”  
          Rebecca smirked. “Thanks,” she said sarcastically, and then turned to her sister, “Chris, I think I’m going to head back and get some sleep. I’ll see you.”  
          “Alright,” her sister replied, “Be careful.”  
          “I’ll be fine,” she insisted before walking out the door, taking another swig of her drink.  
          “I guess it’s just you and me now,” Dean said, resting his arm on the table.  
          “I never caught your name, hotstuff,” Christine flirted back.  
          “Dean,” he informed her.  
          “Well, Dean,” she said, “Thank you for the drinks.”  
          “My pleasure,” Dean purred, “So, what brings you and your sister here to Lansing? You live here?”  
          “No, we’re here visiting some family,” Christine explained, “Our aunt and uncle live here. It’s sort of a family reunion.” She shook her head and took a sip of her beer.  
          “Ah, a family reunion,” Dean said sarcastically, “That sounds like fun.”  
          “Always,” she joked, “Tension-filled houses that always end up involving some sort of fight are definitely my idea of fun.”  
          “Well, I know how to relieve some of that tension,” Dean said smoothly, edging closer to Christine.  
          “Oh really…?” she purred allowing Dean to move his face closer to hers. Their lips were about an inch away when she smirked and pulled away.  
          “Sorry, not tonight, hotstuff,” she laughed, standing up and grabbing her black leather jacket, “I’ll see you around.” With that, she left a very confused and disappointed Dean Winchester sitting alone at the bar.


	2. Unexpected Backup

          “Chris, will you stop giggling? It’s kind of disturbing,” Becca protested as we sat in our motel room.

          “I’m sorry,” I laughed, “It’s just… all of the women were in the same cooking club, right? Their deaths are almost ironic.”

          “The fact that you find this funny…” she sighed, shaking her head, “So check this out, another member of this club was killed almost two months ago. Laura Carlson. She died in a car accident on the way to one of their competitions.”

          “So you think that she’s our ghost?” I asked, “Maybe there’s a little bit more to all of the women’s relationship.”

          “I’m willing to bet so,” Becca agreed, “We should talk with some of the other members of the club.”

          “Yeah. Let’s go,” I instructed.

\---

          “Oh, Laura?” Sarah Wilson, another member of the victims’ cooking club, told us when we asked about her, “She was…well, she never really fit in with the group. She wasn’t the best cook, but she got pretty good pretty fast. A lot of the other girls didn’t like that. They felt a bit threatened.”

          “Why is that?” I asked, trying not to fidget in my FBI suit.

          “You see,” she began, “In our competitions, everyone is ranked together no matter what group you belong to. So Laura suddenly had the potential to outrank the others, and four of them in particular didn’t like that. It’s really peculiar, actually…”

          “Peculiar?” Becca asked, “How?”

          “The three women who were killed…” Sarah explained, “Janie, Nora, and Diane… they were three of those four.”

          “Who was the other?” my sister and I said in unison.

          “Ella Day,” Sarah informed us.

          “Could you tell us where she lives?” I questioned.

          “Umm…” she mumbled, trying to remember, “32n462 Baker Street. She lives alone.”

          “Thank you so much for your time, Mrs. Wilson,” Becca said, shaking her hand as we rose to our feet.

          “It was no trouble,” she replied, “Thank you for your hard work. It means a lot to everyone that this mystery is solved. The girls… they will be dearly missed.”

          “We’re glad to help,” I smiled, “Have a nice evening.”

          Becca and I walked swiftly back to our car.

          “This is no coincidence,” I said, stating the obvious, “Motives, black goo at the crime scenes… We’re definitely dealing with malevolent spirit possessions.”

          “Yeah,” Becca agreed, “We need to get to Ella’s place as soon as possible.”

* * *

 

           “So this is Ella Day’s house?” Sam whispered to his brother as they crept up to the woman’s house late the night after the incident at the bar.

          “Yep,” his brother replied, “Let’s look for a back door. We need to get in there, pronto.”

          They easily found a back door, and Sam pulled out his lock pick and kneeled down so he was eye-level with the lock. Dean held a flashlight to the lock to help Sam see what he was doing, but Sam waved him away.

          “…It’s already open,” Sam said, standing up.

          The brothers crept into the house silently, staying completely on alert. Dean suddenly reached his arm out and stopped his brother.

          “Did you hear that?” he whispered. He nodded in the direction of a doorway. They braced themselves and waited by the edge of the door, guns in hand. Dean silently nodded a one, two, three, and they whipped around the corner.

          “What the hell?!” I whispered. Becca and I had neared a doorway in Ella Day’s house when I heard a shuffling from the next room. As soon as we went to enter the room, we were met by two men pointing guns at us.

          Of course, we were pointing guns at them too. When my eyes adjusted to the dark, the widened in surprise and I lowered my gun. “Dean?” I gasped, “What are you… oh, you’ve _got_ to be kidding me…”

          The other man with Dean, who I had seen him sitting with at the bar before he approached us, turned to his brother. “Dean, aren’t these the girls you were hitting on at the bar last night?”

          “Yeah, Sam,” he mumbled, “Are you saying….”

          “You guys are the other hunters, aren’t you?” Becca asked, saying what everyone had been thinking.

          “You two are hunters?” Dean gaped.

          “Yeah, you got a problem with that?” I asked sternly.

          “N-No,” he stuttered, “I’m just a bit surprised is all.”

          “People usually are,” I sighed, and then grinned, “Makes deception easy, though.”

          “I knew I liked you for a reason,” he grinned back.

         “When you two are done flirting, we _do_ have a woman to save, you know,” Becca pointed out in a teasing tone.

          “We are _not_ flirting,” Dean and I insisted in unison.

          “Okay then when you guys are done not flirting we should probably go and find-” Sam was cut off by clicking sounds coming from the direction of the kitchen. We all exchanged panicked looks before bolting to the kitchen.

          When we got there, Ella was sitting on the stove top with a distant look in her eye. Black goo was dripping from her ear. It was Laura. She clicked on the next burner.

          “Laura, stop this!” Becca yelled.

          “You don’t need to do this!” Sam added.

          “They deserve this,” she croaked, “They tampered with my car… They made me drive off the road and into that lake. It’s their fault I’m dead!”

          “Please, just let her go,” Dean pleaded.

          “Laura,” I called out, “Hiding inside a vessel like that… leave her and face me. Or are you just going to prove that they’re better than you like they said?”

          Her eyes whipped to me. Like I’d planned, Ella’s body went limp and Laura appeared before me. Becca and Dean rushed over and pulled Ella off the stove. Becca nodded at me, assuring she was alright. I turned my attention back to Laura.

          “That’s more like it,” I said cockily, shifting my shotgun in my hands. All I had to do was shoot her with one of these rock salt filled bullets and she’d be gone. For a while.

          With practiced speed, I whipped the gun into position and fired, hitting my mark easily. She hadn’t been expecting me to act so quickly.

          “Damn,” Sam smiled, “Nice job.”

          “Thanks,” I replied, grinning back at him.

          “Ella’s unconscious, but alright,” Becca called from her position beside Dean and the women on the floor, “Dean just called an ambulance. We should split before they show up.”

          “Good idea,” I said, “Well, it’s been nice working with you boys.”

          “Wait, hold up,” Dean protested, “Where are you guys staying?”

          “Red Valley Motel,” Becca answered.

          “Us too,” Sam said, “Let’s talk after we get out of here. Meet us in room seven?”

          Becca and I exchanged looks, and then I nodded at Sam. “Sure. Now let’s get the hell out of here.”

          With one last look at Ella, we all hurried out of the house and back to our cars.

          “Well I never would’ve guessed that those two were the other hunters,” Becca said in disbelief as she drove us back to the motel.

          “Yeah,” I agreed, “I’m a little shocked myself. I wonder why they became hunters…”

          “Me too…” she replied, “Well, I guess we can ask them when we meet up with them.”

           “Yeah,” I repeated, feeling myself slipping into my memories.

*

_“Hold it like this,” my mother instructed, demonstrating how to hold the pistol. I was six years old, almost seven. I did my best to replicate her stance._

_“Not like that,” she snapped, kicking my foot back hard enough to leave a bruise. I almost lost my balance, but I managed to hold myself up. “Your foot needs to be back farther. And lift your damn arms up, brat. It’s not that heavy.” I did as she said._

_“Decent,” she sneered, “Now fire it.”_

_“W-What?” I mumbled._

_“Did I stutter?” she yelled, “Fire it. At that target over there.”_

_I looked to where she was pointing and saw a medium sized, circular, red and white target about 30 feet away. Hesitantly, I squeezed the trigger. I wasn’t at all prepared and flew to the ground, not to mention missing the target completely._

_“Come on, Christine,” my mother sighed, glaring menacingly down at me, “That was horrendous. Anyone could’ve done better than that, probably even Rebecca. You’re just worthless.”_

*

          “Christine?”

          “What?” I said, coming back to the present.

          “We’re at the motel,” she said, with her concerned look again. It seemed like this wasn’t the first time she had told me.

          “Right,” I replied, my mind still in another place. I got out of the car, willing myself to focus. “They said room seven, right?” She nodded and we found the room.

          I knocked once and then opened the door. “We’re here.”

          “Yeah, sure, come on in,” Dean replied sarcastically.

          “Hey, you told us to come,” Becca said mock-defensively. Sam laughed quietly, and Becca flashed a smile at him. This earned a suggestive look from me to Becca and one from Dean to Sam.

          I walked over to one of the beds and sat on the edge. Sam was sitting at a little table in the front behind his laptop. He reminded me a lot of Becca, actually, which was why I couldn’t help but smirk when she chose to sit at the table beside him. Dean was sitting on the edge of the other bed, beer in hand.

          “Got any more of those?” I asked, gesturing to his beer.

          “Sure,” he replied, grabbing another from the room’s mini fridge and tossing it to me before turning to my sister and Sam, “You two want one?”

          Both nodded, and Dean tossed then each one.

          “So…” I began, taking a long sip from my drink, “Hunters, huh? What’s your story?”

          “Something killed our mom when we were young,” Sam explained sullenly, “Our dad wanted to find it and kill it. So he started hunting, and he taught us too. And now we’re here.”

          “What about you two?” Dean added.

          “Our parents are hunters,” Becca explained before I could say anything, “They taught us how to hunt since the moment we were born. We left them about three years ago and have been hunting together ever since.”

          It looked like the brothers were curious as to why we left, but they sensed that we didn’t want to talk about it and stayed quiet. Just like how we were curious about their mother’s death but said nothing. It was a mutual understanding.

          “You know, I don’t think we ever got a formal introduction,” I pointed out, smiling crookedly.

          “Dean and Sam Winchester,” Dean introduced, replicating my smile.

          “Christine and Rebecca Ford,” I replied.

          “Nice to meet you guys,” Sam said sincerely, “So, what do the three of you say to working together to finish this case?”

          “Fine by me,” Becca, Dean and I responded simultaneously.

          “We need to find out where this Laura chick was buried,” Dean announced, rising and walking over to his brother, “Can you find it online?”

          “I’m looking,” Sam replied, furrowing his brow, “But it looks like the family went to some pretty extreme lengths to keep that information private.”

          “Well, we can’t just wander through a bunch of cemeteries until we find her grave,” I sighed, flopping backwards onto the bed.

          “Hold on,” Becca interjected, leaning closer to Sam so that she could examine the computer screen. She looked up at Sam. “Did you try looking through the police mainframe?”

          “That would require computer skills a lot better than mine,” Sam replied.

          “Here, give it to me,” Becca instructed. Sam did as she said and slid the laptop over to her. She started typing profusely.

          “Wow,” Sam exclaimed, “You’re gonna have to teach me how to do that.”

          Becca smiled up at him, temporarily pausing from her hacking work. “Gladly.”

          Dean and I exchanged looks, and I had to cover my mouth to keep from laughing.

          “And, we’re in,” Becca announced with a lopsided grin similar to my own.

          “That was pretty impressive,” Dean complimented, “So, where’s this crazy chick buried?”

          “She wasn’t,” Sam sighed, leaning back in his chair, “She was cremated.”

          The rest of us collectively sighed in frustration. Still, I couldn’t help but smile. It was kind of fun working a case as a group.

          “Is there anything that may have some of her remains in it?” I asked.

          “It could be anything,” Becca sighed, “We could ask her family, but it’s late and we have no idea when Laura will attack Ella again. We don’t have long before she recovers from the rock salt.”

          “Hold on,” Dean muttered, “Sam, that one lady we talked to… Didn’t she say something about that weird knife tradition their club had?”

          “What tradition?” Becca and I asked in unison.

          “That’s right!” Sam exclaimed, “One of the other members we talked to said they had this strange tradition whenever one of them cut themselves during the club activities for the first time. They would spray the bloody knife with something to preserve the blood and put it in a case on the wall at the kitchen they had their meetings at.”

          “So some of Laura’s blood might be at the clubhouse,” I concluded.

          “That’s right,” Dean confirmed.

          “How about this,” I began, “Bec, you and Sam go keep an eye on Ella at the hospital. Dean and I will go take care of the knife.”

          “Sounds like a plan,” she replied and she and Sam rose from their chairs. We all hurried out the door. Sam and Becca took our car, and I rode in the brothers’ car with Dean.

          “Nice ride,” I smiled as the engine roared to life.

          “Isn’t she?” Dean replied, returning my smile, “She’s been my baby for years.” I laughed, and we drove off.

*

          “What hospital is Ella at again?” Becca asked Sam as she got into the driver’s seat of her and Chris’ navy blue 2003 Jeep Wrangler.

          “McLaren Orthopedic,” Sam replied as he climbed into the passenger’s seat.

          They drove in silence for a while. Sam risked a glance over at Becca. Her long, wavy brunette hair was hooked behind her ear, falling almost to her waist. The moonlight reflected beautifully off of her greyish-blue eyes. Those eyes shifted over and met his own and he quickly looked away.

          “So,” Sam said, clearing his throat, “That was pretty impressive back there.”

          “Impressive?” Becca asked, “What was?”

          “Your hacking skills,” Sam explained, “It takes someone really smart to do that.”

          Becca blushed lightly. Luckily, it was too dark in the car for Sam to notice. “Oh, that. Thanks. I’m, uh…good with computers, I guess.”

          “Who taught you how to do that?” Sam questioned, genuinely curious.

          “I did,” she replied bashfully, “I just kind of… figured it out.”

          “You’re kidding me,” Sam said in disbelief, “I take back what I said before, that’s _extremely_ impressive.”

          She smiled at him, and he smiled back. Against her will, she forced her eyes back to the road as they made their way to the hospital.

*

          “Nice move putting my brother and your sister together,” Dean said as they drove to the clubhouse.

          “Thanks,” I said smugly, “I could see the way they were looking at each other.”

          “Me too,” Dean agreed with a smirk, “Sammy could use a bit of that right now.”

          “Becca too,” I replied, “Sometimes I feel like she’s too busy worrying about me to think of herself sometimes. And I’m supposed to be the older sister.” I chuckled.

          “Yeah, Sammy’s had a rough time for the past few months,” Dean explained, not going into much detail, “Something happened, and he’s been beating himself up over it. It’s nice to see him enjoying himself for a change.”

          I smiled softly, understanding. “Wait, over there. To the felt.”

          We had arrived at the clubhouse. It was an old warehouse that the group had converted into their clubhouse. They had added a bunch of ovens, stovetops, and other stuff.

          “So Laura will either show up here to stop us,” I began as Dean and I retrieved weapons and such from the truck, “Or she’ll show up at the hospital.”

          “Right,” Dean agreed, closing the trunk once we had what we needed, “Let’s just hope we can find this thing easily.”

 

* * *

 

 

          “Excuse me,” Becca said to the nurse at the counter when they entered the hospital. The nurse looked up and smiled, and the hunters held up their fake badges. “We’re special agents West and Johnson. We need to know what room Ella Day is in, right now. It’s important.”

          The now concerned nurse typed madly at her computer and then announced, “453. Is everything okay?”

          “Everything’s fine,” Sam assured her, “Thank you.”

          The pair hurried up to the room as fast as they could. To their relief, Ella was alone- no Laura.

          “Salt the window,” Becca instructed, pulling some out of her bag and tossing it to Sam, “I’ll get the door. Then we can start with the vents.”

          Sam did as he was told. As he finished with the window, he turned back to Becca. “You’d think Ella would’ve heard us and waken up by now…”

          “I bet they gave her a sedative to help her sleep,” Becca proposed, “With burns like that, I’d definitely want some.”

          Just as she was about to finish the last salt line, a huge gust of wind entered the room, blowing the salt all over.

          “Call Christine!” Sam yelled over the wind. Becca already had her phone out.

          “Chris! You guys need to burn that thing _now_!” she shouted into the phone. The wind was knocking things over now, and she had to hold onto Sam to keep herself upright.

          Just then, the power went out and the wind stopped completely. It seemed like the power was out in at least the whole wing of the hospital.

          “Bec? You okay?” Chris asked worriedly over the phone, “What happened?”

          “We’re fine,” she said, nervously glancing around the room, waiting for Laura to make a move. So far, nothing. “Just hurry up.”

          “We’re working on it,” Chris told her, “Just hang in there.” She hung up.

          “They’re working on it,” Becca repeated in a semi-sarcastic tone.

          “Awesome,” Sam replied in a definitely sarcastic tone.

          “ _You_.”

          Both hunters’ heads whipped up, meeting the glaring eyes of Laura’s ghost.

          “Ella _will_ die,” Laura snarled, slamming Becca into Sam, making both of them fly against the wall behind them.

 

* * *

 

 

          “Where _is_ the damn thing?” I sighed with frustration, scanning the shelves that contained the other knives.

          “I don’t know,” Dean said gruffly, equally frustrated.

          “They must have put it somewhere else,” I proposed, “I don’t see any of the victims’ either. They probably took them down because they didn’t want to look at them or something.”

          “I think there’s a basement,” Dean exclaimed, taking off down the hallway, “This way.”

 

* * *

 

          “Laura, stop this!” Sam yelled, getting to his feet and helping Becca to her feet, “You don’t need to do this.”

          “Yes, I do,” Laura seethed, “They killed me! All of them. They _killed_ me, and they all got away with it! They _have_ to pay!” She leapt towards Ella, who was still lying motionless in her bed.

          With a loud grunt, Becca raised the iron crowbar she had brought and swung it at the spirit. She disappeared, and Becca raised the crowbar again. Sam and Becca looked around nervously, just waiting for her to return.

 

* * *

 

          “Did you check those boxes over there?” Dean called to me from across the vast, musty basement.

          “Not yet…” I muttered in reply, “Wait. Here it is!” Dean rushed over just as my phone rang.

* * *

 

          “Chris, burn that thing _now_ ,” Becca yelled into the phone, “We can’t hold her off any longer.”

          “We have it, we have it,” her sister insisted, “Just a few more seconds.”

          “ _Now_ would be great,” Sam said through clenched teeth. He now held the crowbar and had it raised by his shoulder. Laura was slowly approaching them, and now they were backed against Ella’s bed.

          Laura screeched menacingly and leapt at the hunters. But before she could attack, she let loose a pitiful wail and burst into flames. Chris and Dean had done it. Sam and Becca sighed, relaxing. It was over.

 

* * *

 

          “Well,” I sighed, grabbing my bags, “That’s everything. We should get going.”

          “Yep,” Becca agreed, picking up her own things.

          “Let’s go put everything in the jeep, and then say goodbye to Sam and Dean,” I proposed, cracking a smile, “Plus, we need to make sure Sam has your number.”

          “Chris,” Becca groaned, rolling her eyes. But I could see the blush creeping up her cheeks.

          I just laughed and walked out of the motel room, seeing Becca following me from the corner of my eye. My laughter stopped abruptly once I saw the empty parking spot where we had left the jeep.

          “You have got to be kidding me,” I groaned.

          “No way,” Becca said, shaking her head, “I’m going to go talk to the guy at the front desk.” She wasn’t gone long, but the clear frustration on her face confirmed my suspicions.

          “Apparently he saw some kids get in it and drive off earlier,” Becca sighed, “He assumed the car was theirs and didn’t do anything.”

          “Damnit!” I grunted, letting myself fall to the ground so I was sitting on the curb. I dropped my face into my hands.

          “Something wrong?”

          Raising my head, I saw the Winchesters leaving their motel room.

          “Some assholes decided to steal our car,” I grumbled.

          “That’s rough,” Sam sighed.

          “Where are you guys headed?” Dean asked.

          “Not sure yet,” Becca replied, rubbing her temples, “We haven’t picked out our next case.”

          “How about you two come along with us?” Dean suggested, “We were one hell of a team back there, and it beats wandering around on foot.”

          Becca looked at me, and I shrugged. “Why not?”


End file.
